


Cravings

by CaptainTarthister



Series: The Lannisters Are Coming [13]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV), brienne of tarth - Fandom, jaime lannister - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brienne gets seriously horny too, Established Relationship, F/M, Jaime is always accommodating, Jaime smells good, Married Couple, Pregnant Sex, Twins, chocolate chip cookies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 01:17:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4686947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTarthister/pseuds/CaptainTarthister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aside from strange food combinations, pregnancy makes Brienne more prone to blushing when she realizes she craves her husband Jaime just as bad. Some Jaime POV but mostly Brienne. Part two of The Lannisters Are Coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cravings

 All characters by George RR Martin. I own nothing and know nothing.

Part Two of The Lannisters Are Coming. Part One of the series is[ Loving Harder and More.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4681034)

 

Small as their apartment was, there was no denying that it allowed a lot of sunlight in, especially in the morning. It fell mostly in the kitchen, haloing the counter and the small, round dining table where Jaime and Brienne sat having breakfast. They were dressed for work, Jaime with his golden blonde locks slicked back, wearing one of his tailored gray suits, pinstriped shirt and another crimson tie from his never-ending collection and Brienne, her straw-blond bob a snowy mist under the sun. Her shirt the exact shade of red of her as her husband's necktie.

Each believed in having a big breakfast to power through the day. Jaime had a plate of omelette dragged through the mud, stuffed heavily with peppers, onions and strong Dornish spices, and with it, four strips of turkey bacon cooked to a crisp. He guided forkfuls of the food into his mouth in between reading the business pages of the paper and telling Brienne about another idiotic merger. A cup of coffee with a light hint of cinnamon sat by his plate, half-full.

Brienne, usually the healthier eater between the two, had finally given in to her body’s odd food cravings and was now working through a small stack of pancakes swimming in maple syrup, slathered thick with butter, and asparagus sticks she would dip in the wobbling yolk of her poached eggs. Freshly-squeezed grapefruit juice was her drink, which she had gotten used to. She had to because Jaime forbade her from coffee and in support of her misery, he had switched to decaf because there was nothing Brienne disliked more than a brew that pretended to be something it was clearly not.

As Brienne swirled a plump asparagus in the little maple pool at her plate, Jaime snuck a glance at her. Seeing Brienne always stirred him in a way that puddled his insides and made him hard at the same time, whether she was flushed from the exertions of their fucking or waddling barefoot in their apartment, a frown curled on her red face because she liked threadbare t-shirts and ratty sweatpants a lot better than the smock tops and black stretch pants she now wore to work, accommodating her pregnant belly. She was wearing a red one now, a vivid, Lannister red that emphasized her moonlight skin and unbelievably, did not clash with her round, sapphire eyes.

He thought she looked like a tulip and the knowledge that she was carrying his children, _their sons_ , tempted him to beat his chest and howl with pride but he’d never do those things. First, Brienne wasn’t a big fan of flowers of any kind. Second, she’d deck him on the head. You hear of pregnant women bemoaning aching backs and feet, or an all-body ache and how even the most simple things were difficult but not Brienne, oh no. His wife was a cut above all women, pregnancy actually making her as fresh as the first bloom of spring and with it, extra strength. His right shoulder was still smarting from when she’d smacked him two nights ago while they were out to dinner with their friends Oberyn and Ellaria Martell.

The Martells, parents to two girls, had asked if they could recommend sexual positions that would increase the chances of conceiving a boy. Brienne choked on her water while Jaime quickly launched into a discussion of how to wrestle your wife into position and keep her there the whole night. She had actually squawked in between coughs and hit him on the shoulder with enough force to cause Jaime to howl in actual pain. Oberyn and Ellaria had laughed.

“Jaime, I know they’re our good friends but you _do not_ talk about our sex life in public, let alone to anyone ever,” Brienne admonished when they got home later that night.

They were in their bedroom undressing. In spite of her lingering embarrassment and annoyance, Brienne had to admit that if you were having sex with someone who looked more and more like a god as he shed off his clothes and then made love to you like a conquering lion, it was difficult to _not_ brag about it. She froze in unbuttoning her blouse and watched Jaime shrug off his white shirt, unloop his black belt and pull his pants down.

His skin was smooth, even gold, touched by the sun. Unconsciously, Brienne’s hand slid past her swollen belly then inside the waistband of her pants. Jaime was about to pull down his boxers when he realized the sudden quiet between them.

Brienne bit her lip, feeling a feverish warmth overtaking her body as she watched the muscles ripple on his chest and waist when he turned to look at her, and saw her lust-blown gaze tracing the hard length of his thighs and long, corded legs. Even his feet looked fucking delectable, she thought, licking her lips and raising her eyes. She gasped when she realized Jaime had caught her, literally with her hand in the honey pot.

His smile was slow and predatory. “See anything you like, wife?”

Brienne looked at him right in the eye, her hand still on her cunt. “Don’t you, husband?”

“Oh, definitely,” Jaime murmured, his emerald eyes flaring with lust as they watched her hand shift under her pants. This was new. Brienne never initiated touching herself until this very moment. 

Brienne startled them both with her next words. “Get on the bed, Lannister.”

“As my wife commands,” he said with a smirk, leaping on the bed with arrogant flourish. He stacked his hands behind his head and winked at her.

The smirk on his face was wiped off seconds later and didn’t return for the rest of the night. Brienne chained him to their bed with her lips, hands, cunt and legs. She was a slave to a thirst that refused to be satiated, no matter how deeply she drank from his lips, no matter how deeply she took his cock in her cunt. It didn’t help that Jaime begged her again and again to take him, use him, fuck him, _fuck him harder_ , love him, she was so glorious when she loved him and _fucked him hard_ , he had panted. She was more than willing. She was a lioness unleashed.

Brienne watched Jaime lick the grease from his fingers before taking a sip of his coffee. The newspaper was folded in half and lay flat on the table, the finger of his other hand marking the line where he’d stopped reading.

With as much discretion as she could (it was a talent she would never learn, damn it), she watched his Adam’s apple bob with every swallow of the coffee, and wished she could release the rest of his neck from the starched collar of his shirt and tie and smell that scent and lick him.

She breathed deeply and felt languidness settle softly over her. Thankfully, her morning sickness was behind her, and she wasn’t very sensitive to food, only prone to strange combinations and occasional mood swings. Pregnancy hormones had also heightened her sense of smell. Over the aroma of eggs, maple syrup and newspaper, Jaime’s soap, aftershave, cologne, and something else that for Brienne was strongly similar to freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies, was a dense cloud that made her head swim, as if she was high, she surmised. She had never experimented with mind-altering drugs but this must be what it felt like, your mind foggy and clear at the same time. She saw the man she loved more every day, the father of _their sons_ still cocooned in her belly.

Jaime always smelled good but in the last few weeks, his scent had become downright delicious. Brienne would eat him up if she could, and a deep, tomato flush spread across her cheeks down to her neck at her silent admission. Her nipples tightened painfully under her bra—her breasts were still small but they needed support now.

She shifted in her seat, remembering last night this time. They lay side by side, Jaime’s breath harsh against her nape and ear, his name piercing wails from her throat as he thrust from behind, his hands roaming her breasts and sensitive nipples, gentle and possessive around her belly, fingers merciless when they slipped past the soaked folds of her cunt. The heat of their lovemaking enhanced his scent and Brienne took greedy lungfuls of it as she came.

“Wife,” Jaime’s voice broke through her heated thoughts and Brienne quickly took the asparagus in her mouth. She didn’t hear his soft groan. “We must get going,” he said, clearing his throat. “You have a nine-thirty class, remember?” At six months pregnant, Brienne didn’t fit behind the wheel anymore. Jaime was more than happy to drive her to work.

“Oh, right,” Brienne said, dabbing her lips with a napkin. She started to get up and clear the table but Jaime put his hand over hers to stop her.

“Hey, let me do it,” he told her, standing up. Brienne was in flats so they were eye-to-eye.

“Is everything alright? You’re warmer than usual,” he said, pressing a hand on her pink neck.

If he knew he would never let her hear the end of it, Brienne thought, trembling at his innocent touch. Gods, this pregnancy owned her body, not her.

“It’s called being pregnant,” she told him, managing a shaky smile.

“Okay, if you say so. You’re sure?” Brienne swore she was slowly melting into her shoes as his hands gently caged her stomach. Just then, the telltale flutter of a series of kicks pressed right against Jaime’s palms and he chuckled. Brienne’s smile relaxed and she pressed his hands on her round belly more.

When he touched her like this, it was almost as good as having him inside her. Almost. . .but not quite.

“Jaime, I—“ she started to say but his hands reached for the top button of her smock and the other until.

Brienne held her breath as he finished the task, pushing the panels open until they slid down her shoulders and to the floor.

“Still shy? Why are you only bold and naughty at night?” Jaime asked, kissing her cheek as he rubbed his knuckles against her bra-covered breasts, pulling a gasp from her. “Don’t you think I don’t know when my wife wants me? Gods, your tits,” he groaned, cupping them hard. Brienne threw her head back and moaned. “I miss stripping you and seeing them right away but gods, they’re _so round._ ”

“Oh, Jaime, I just can’t seem to stop wanting you,” Brienne admitted as he snapped off her bra and tossed it to the floor. She rewarded him with a blush that rivalled the red of her discarded shirt.

“I’ll keep you in bed all day, everyday, if I could.”

“Now there’s a thought,” he said, grinning, squeezing her breasts. Keeping his eyes on her, he gently pinched her nipple. He missed doing this and he knew she missed it too. Brienne’s eyes rolled to the back of her head but she shook her head and starting to move away from him.

“Shut up. I have to go to work. You have to go to work—“ Jaime cut her off with a hard, lingering kiss on her mouth, his hands returning to her belly.

“We have time.”

“No, we don’t—“

“We’ll make it a quick one,” and he startled her when his hand lowered to her pants, palming her through the fabric. His middle finger easily found her slit.

Brienne groaned and buried her head in his shoulder, where he smelled _so good, so delicious_.

Jaime whispered her name as her thighs squeezed his hand.

“You’re almost there, wench. So am I. But you can’t put these pants back on. I can smell your cunt and only I will know it smells like vanilla and peaches—“

“Jaime!”

“—and you should also be careful when eating phallic things—“

_“Jaime!”_

“—they make me very jealous and very horny,” he continued. “See,” and he took her hand to the hard tenting in his pants. _“Fuck me, Brienne,”_ he pleaded as she squeezed him gently.

“I can’t be late,” she said, raising her head from his shoulder. But she was already shoving away his gray suit jacket and pulling him by the tie.

“You won’t be,” he promised, his eyes shining.

Brienne wondered if there was a woman as happy as she was, if there was anyone else besides her who had even the slightest idea how it was to be looked at with such need and want by a man who was genuinely happy with her, who loved her truly. It will never stop surprising her, she realized.

Gripping his tie, she used it to pull him to her for a kiss.

“Stop torturing me,” Jaime groaned, seizing her hips and rubbing himself against her. “Steer my cock home, wife.”

“Oh, I’m torturing you?” Brienne laughed then put her lips next to his ear and whispered, “I’ll show you how it is to be tortured, husband.”

She was going to be gentle about it, even though they had to be quick. The plan was to take him by the hand to their bedroom, and she was going to be gentle with him even if it killed her because she’d basically been an animal to him in the sheets the last few days but Jaime had other ideas. Of course he did.

He swept the table clear of its contents and whatever protests Brienne made about the broken china melted away in their hungry kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to Archive of Our Own so I'm still figuring things out. Cravings is a standalone but you can also read the preceding story, Loving Harder and More. 
> 
> Additional: Despite being a Lannister, Jaime believes in working for your own money. It will be mentioned/explored in the next installment of the series exactly what he does but I can tell you that he's not professionally involved in the Lannister empire. I'm still thinking of making Brienne either a newly-tenured professor or just about to finish her dissertation. They're self-made, determinedly and proudly so, which explains their small apartment. But Jaime being Jaime, of course he should have tailored suits. 
> 
> I wrote this because I liked the idea of Brienne horny, nothing more. Oh well, also because I love Jaime and Brienne and think that at least in my universe, in case things don't end well for them in the books, they're happy and together.


End file.
